Time and Time Again
by SomeoneThatExists
Summary: There were people screaming about giant robots and soldiers wielding guns. I should have listened and ran with them, going with the flow as I always have. But I didn't. Turns out though, that it was not the right time to make half-assed declarations of courage and bravery when war was part of the deal. Definitely not, when you died because of it.
1. Act 0 - Prologue

**Hey guys! This is another fic that I've been working on (I'm sorry! I know I have others to work on too, but this one was just collecting in the dust and I ****_had _****to post it! I'm sorryyyyyy! -wallows in despair-) for a while back. It's from my other account, LifelineOver, and I decided to just put it up here. It was one of my first works, and I guess updates for this would be long and far between...yeah, sorry. OC alert!**

**Oh, and I will still continue Metempsychosis since that's my main focus right now.**

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><p><em>Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. I only own my OC!<em>

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><p><strong><em>"I was a sidelines child: never class president, never team captain, never the one with the most valentines in my box."<em>**

**_-Lois Lowry_**

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><p>Act 0 - Prologue<p>

.

Since I was a kid, I never liked attention.

I would get nervous and the feeling of butterflies in my stomach would grow, making me feel immensely uncomfortable. My hands would feel cold and clammy, I might even start having difficulty breathing if I was under the spotlight for a long time. Because of these, I often stayed with the crowd, where the most people are, watching with them, staying at the sidelines. I was part of the people who watched, who didn't do anything important or extraordinary. I wasn't loud and charismatic, I did not have friends to rally behind my back. I was just an ordinary person.

So, if I was like that, it would make sense not to choose a job that draws attention to oneself. I had no idea what job there is that didn't require much social interaction since I was also a very awkward girl, and often failed at interviews. I was an introvert, a very shy one. The best job I could have had that paid high enough was at the coffee shop owned by my parents' friend. They'd (my parents) asked the job for me, so I became a waitress there. Thanks to that job where social interaction was much needed, I got over some of my fear. At least now I wouldn't always be a nervous wreck. Though I still get like that sometimes.

Eventually, life settled into a routine. After my parents left me for their work overseas, I learned to take care of myself, learning everything I had to know to keep myself properly fed and well cared for. The house, or mansion was more like it, that my parents left me was sold and half of the money was given to charity, the rest I kept for myself. I rented an apartment near my work and made a few friends, and by few, I mean, I can count them in two hands. Hey, at least it's not just one hand, right?

The peace, or what I considered peace since Mission City is really a bit crowded, was shattered when chaos started from the arrival of a group of soldiers in tanks and military jeeps accompanied by expensive-looking cars.

I didn't know exactly what had happened, only that there were people screaming about giant robots and soldiers wielding guns. I should have listened and ran with them, going with the flow as I always have. But I didn't. Only because I wanted to be strong and to stop just being a sidelines-girl. Turns out though, that it was not the right time to make half-assed declarations of courage and bravery when war was part of the deal.

I did regret my decisions though. After all, who wouldn't, when you died because of it?

.

Act 0 - Prologue - End

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><p><strong>Yes, yes, yes, it's another one of those, 'hey the OC died' stuff, but this time, it has a twist! It's not reincarnating or anything like that, but it's not like I'll tell you guys what it's all about just at the beginning.<strong>

**Sooooo, was it good, bad, horrible? Please tell me your thoughts on it!**


	2. Act 1 Part 1 - Death

**Yeah, this is chapter 1! Thanks to Answerthecall and ManyGamePlayer for reviewing last chapter!**

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><p><em>Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. I only own my OC!<em>

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><p><em><strong>"Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome."<strong>_

_**-Isaac Asimov**_

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><p>Act 1 - Part 1 - Death<p>

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The noise in the cafe was at a normal volume, compared to the noise in the morning rush.

It was mid-afternoon and there were just a few customers in the booths. They were all mostly quiet except for the group of teens laughing and talking (nearly shouting if I might add) while sipping their vanilla lattes. They were always here on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, ordering the same vanilla lattes. In my head, I had dubbed them as the Vanilla Teens.

Today, there was a bit more customers than usual. I looked outside, eyeing the sunlight and the sweaty people walking outside with umbrellas and those wearing revealing outfits. I sighed, thankful for the air conditioner in our simple little cafe.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

I looked at Marla who was tying on the apron of her uniform, head tilted slightly forward as she tied the ribbon. I put my arms on the counter and placed my right foot behind my left one, absentmindedly tapping it on the tiled floor. "Nothing much is going on around my head. Just thankful for the air conditioner."

She laughed softly. "You got that right."

She said nothing more for a while as she tied her reddish brown hair into a high bun, poking a hairstick with dangling amber beads at the end, through it.

"So," she started, "Have you heard about that attack in Qatar? Was it terrorists?"

I glanced at her but then turned my sights back to the woman outside who was putting on make-up. She was sitting provocatively at our booth outside, eyeing herself critically at her mirror. Something black fell onto my right eye but then I flipped my bangs back, letting me watch everything with no obstructions at all. "_She has too much make-up on." _commented the little voice in my head.

"I think so." I answered after a while, remembering that she asked a question directed at me. "Never really cared much for the news."

She hummed. "You should. You live on your own after all." I blinked and glanced at her again. She had her arms crossed now. "_Maybe you should watch. You're just lazing around at home, anyway." _that little voice said again.

There was silence between us again and I stopped leaning on my arms on the counter, straightening my back and popping a few bones along the way. Oh that felt good. Marla was still there at my right, face blank as she watched the same woman I was watching pucker her lips and flip her hair over her shoulder as she started walking away.

Marla sighed and just walked away, saying nothing else to me. I stood properly, feeling like a madam with my ramrod straight back and chin slightly up. Now all I need is a beehive hair and a corset then I'm good to go.

"I mean, like, seriously, she just went up to me and started waving this flyer around at my face." I eyed the dark-haired teen from the group I had dubbed as the 'Vanilla Teens'. He was making excessive hand gestures as if to emphasize his point. "She was so insistent so I just went," then he made a flippant gesture, "but she won't understand and kept on waving around that stupid flyer in my face." He scoffed. "She might as well have started screaming those overly scripted lines in my face, but thank God she didn't."

The blonde girl beside him who was twirling her ballpen with two fingers giggled, taking a sip of her latte before speaking. "I'm guessing Sheila didn't appreciate the girl?"

"Oh yeah." the guy nodded halfheartedly, leaning back on the plush chair and running a hand through his hair, "She didn't. Her face was all red and she actually looked ready to kill."

I stopped watching when I saw a man running through the crowd outside, screaming.

"What the hell?" blondie from the Vanilla Teens commented, watching the man run past the cafe. "Is there some sort of riot that we missed?"

Other people were looking too, now looking surprised as more people came, running past our cafe. I watched everything with keen eyes, noticing the disarray the crowd was getting in. I walked out from behind the counter and muted our jukebox. I jumped, along with the others when I heard an explosion. And did I hear gunshots?

"Dude, was that an explosion?" said a brunette from the Vanilla Teens, looking outside at the chaos beginning to form. I steeled my nerves and began walking to the doors, some of the customers and some of the staff looking at me. Marla ran, catching up and staying behind me. I pulled open the doors, the little bell jingling as me and Marla stepped out.

Outside it was a myriad of voices, noises and car horns honking continuously. I winced slightly at the volume but I continued and tried looking at where they were all coming from.

"Excuse me!" Marla called out to a businessman who looked pretty panicked. His suit was stained and dirtied, the hem of one of his pant leg was ripped. "Excuse me! Sir!" Marla grabbed his wrist and I watched as he panted and turned wide eyes at me and Marla. "There's no time! You gotta run!" he said hurriedly, looking back continuously at the direction where the crowd was coming from.

"Sir, what's happening?" Marla asked worriedly, eyes shifting between the crowd and the businessman.

"There were soldiers." he gulped then continued, "Soldiers, they were shooting these...monsters! Robots! Giant machines!" A hint of hysteria grew in his eyes and he was shaking, "They were huge! Towering! They...they stepped on Lily! Th-they stepped on my little girl!" He began crying, the sound lost in the midst of all the other chaos. "My sweetie, she was just picking up her doll, then these cars began to change, shapeshift, transform!" He gripped Marla's wrists so hard, she yelped in pain. "They stepped on her, they squished her!" His heartbroken face turned into one filled with hatred, anger, pain and finally, fear. "You need to run. Get out of here!"

That was the last he said as he let go of Marla and ran with the crowd. Marla and I exchanged worried looks and I told her, "Get the customers out. I'll see what's happening."

"But it's not safe!" she exclaimed, rubbing her red wrists. She was as nervous as I was, her eyes continuously shifting to the crowd, to me, and to the direction the crowd was coming from.

I was about to say something else when there was an explosion nearby and the ground shook. Several people fell and tripped, others screamed. "We've got no other way of knowing what's happening unless someone sees it for himself. You want to go?" I retorted, feeling oddly rebellious, unlike my usual obedient, submissive self.

Marla half looked like she wanted to do what I asked and wanted to say no. In the end, she just nodded and ran back inside the cafe.

I turned and started walking, keeping away from the main part of the stampede. My heart was starting to speed up in response to my fear and I felt ready to sprint away at a moment's notice. Another explosion, nearer this time, and more people screamed. I started running and felt my breath hitch when I saw a car fly by, smashing into the glass cases of the boutique. The car exploded shortly afterwards, debris and metal flying everywhere.

Faintly, I felt it. The numbing feeling that came and went whenever I knew something was going to happen. It made me feel light and empty, blurring everything else that was happening around me.

Is this a dream?

Vaguely, I heard the fire crackling in the nearby what-used-to-be a boutique as I looked at the bloody mess in front of me. He looked wealthy, expensive shoes, studded belt. He was sprawled out in front of me, in the middle of all the broken glass. Cuts and bruises, blood and guts. His eyes were glassy, void of life. Blood stained his clothes, dripping onto the sidewalk. Someone tripped over his leg. I think they screamed.

I don't know. I don't know anymore.

_"This is no dream."_ whispered the little voice in my head.

I ran.

Past the corpse, past the burning places, past all the wrecked cars and screaming people.

What the hell happened here?

Through the blurry haze I was in, I heard a voice. It wasn't like all the other voices, this one had a slightly electronic tinge into it. It made the voice seem utterly fascinating. I concentrated on the voice but not on what it was saying.

Later, I regained enough of my traumatized senses to look at where the voice was coming from, and saw the sight that would have made me faint if I wasn't so hyped up on adrenaline. A large robot, all silver and shiny. He seemed humanoid, and he had a band of blue where his eyes would be, if he had eyes. He also had this horn-like things on his head. I was so fascinated that it was too late when I snapped to my senses.

"Run!" he was shouting. At me? "Run! Get out of here!" I realized he was running towards me. Desperation and hopelessness laced his words and I wondered why. "RUN!"

I felt a thud, directly behind me and I turned, only to see something grey and metal coming down at me.

It was too late when I realized that the silver robot told me to run because of this hulking monster who was going to step on me.

I didn't even had time to close my eyes.

.

Act 1 - Part 1 - End

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><p><strong>R&amp;R? -puppy dog eyes-<strong>


	3. Act 1 Part 2 - Confusion

**This is chapter 2, it was mildly edited and has a few changes compared to the original on which I posted on my other account. After this, next chapter will probably be up again pretty soon. I'm still in that 'new story posted' excitement stage so updates will be fast for a few days, probably.**

**This chapter seems like everything is going to repeat, but I made it that way on purpose, it's a part of the plot.**

**Thanks to fave-ers and followers and reviewers! Love you guys~**

**Sorry if the chapters are short, only like, 1k words or something. Word count will increase as we go on with the story, so not to worry.**

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><p><em>Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, only my OC.<em>

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><p><strong><em>"Don't be afraid to be confused. Try to remain permanently confused. Anything is possible. Stay open, forever, so open it hurts, and then open up some more, until the day you die, world without end, amen."<em>**

**_―George Saunders, The Braindead Megaphone_**

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><p>Act 1 - Part 2 - Confusion<p>

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I blinked.

Blank.

I blinked again.

"...haha! That was really funny!..."

"...-ey! Stop that!..."

"...-era? Sera! Heeey?"

I blinked again when I saw a hand waving at me so close to my face. Without thinking, I followed the hand upwards and saw...Marla?

I blinked once again. "Marla?"

Marla raised one eyebrow. "Yeah, that's me."

I blinked again and looked around. I was in the cafe, still leaning my arms on the counter and had placed my right foot behind my left one. What the hell just happened?

"You alright?" Marla asked, a hint of concern in her voice, putting her hands on her waist and tilting her head at me. Her hair wasn't tied into a bun. And her apron wasn't on yet.

Memories of what had happened were still fresh on my mind but my body felt fine, not numb. The face of the young man lying in the pool of his own blood flashed to the forefront of my mind. Was it a dream?

I frowned and looked at Marla. "Did I fall asleep or something?"

She copied my frown and crossed her arms, leaning back on her right leg as she shook her head, red curls bouncing. "No. You just sort of went into a daze. Why?" A daze? What?_  
><em>

"What?" I asked out loud, slightly disbelieving.

She uncrossed her arms and twirled her hairstick in her fingers. "You were in a daze, I said. Jeez, got a hearing problem now? I was also asking you if you knew something about that attack on Qatar. The terrorists?"

I felt my frown deepen. What is going on? Didn't she ask that already?

"No. I don't know anything." was all I can say as I tried to understand what was happening. But there were gunshots, explosions. People that thought, I blanched slightly as the image of the young man came again. And there were these robots...

At that moment, I looked outside and saw the same woman who was putting on make-up. I continued watching, knowing, nearly dreading what the woman would do next. _"She puckered her lips at her mirror, flipped her hair over her shoulder, stood up and walked away.",_ said the little voice in my mind. _"Look, she's doing it again." _ It was said almost tauntingly, mockingly.

I watched intently, waiting. That numbing feeling tingled at the tips of my fingers and at the back of my neck. _"It's going to happen all over again." _grinned the little voice. Or at least, I could _feel _the grin.

Like what I had just thought, she finished fixing herself up and flipped her hair over her shoulder. She fixed her things, stood up and started walking away, exactly how I remembered it.

My breath began to pick up slightly and I bit my bottom lip. I stood properly and tried to remember what was going to happen next. There were gunshots and explosions. The Vanilla Teens were the first to notice. Wait, there was this guy who ran past the cafe; he was screaming.

"Sera?" I jumped at Marla's worried voice. "Are you okay?"

I looked at her and saw that she had her hair up in her customary bun and was now fixing the ribbon behind her. I gave a shaky nod. "Yeah, I'm okay. It's nothing." No, actually I'm not okay. I was supposed to be dead but then I blinked and suddenly, I'm back in time. I don't know what the hell is happening. I never said what I had in mind of course, she'd just think I'm crazy. Maybe I already am, and all of this was just a dream. I might even be in some weird therapy thing, locked in my head.

"You don't look too good. You sure you're alright?" Marla asked, stepping a bit closer.

"Yes, never better." Hardly.

"...-face was all red and she actually looked ready to kill." I tensed as the words escaped the dark-haired one from the Vanilla teens. Those were his last words before—

I never had time to complete my thought before the man, the same one from before, came around, running past our cafe, screaming his head off.

"What the hell?" said the blonde girl. I remember her words. "Is there some sort of riot that we missed?"

This time I heard it: the gunshots and explosions, just coming from the distance.

"Dude, was that an explosion?" said brunette. _"Again. It's repeating. It's happening again." _taunted the little voice merrily, in sick glee.

The numbing sensation came again, although not as full force as before. My heart was now pounding and I felt slightly woozy.

No, not again. What's happening?

My breathing picked up as I heard the noise come closer. I should do something. I need to do something. I know what's going to happen. I need to do something, anything...The image of the corpse appeared again. _"You__ can save them...you know what'll happen." _whispered the odd little voice.

With numb limbs, I stood up and ran outside.

"Sera!" I heard Marla call out but I ignored her. I stepped outside, looking at the direction where I knew the...the robots were going to come from.

The crowd was building up and more and more people came running, shouting, screaming at the others to run and get out of the city. I watched, as the same businessman who bruised Marla's wrists—bruises that weren't there, that never happened and _whyisthishappening_—run past me, tears running freely down his cheeks. I remember his words, his dead daughter, Lily?

I ran against the current, my body not following my brain which was practically screaming to stop and run, to turn around and go someplace safe. But I can't. I can't move.

_"Do something."_ hissed the voice.

I can't, I told it. I can't do anything.

_"Then the blood of the innocent will be on your hands."_

I ran.

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Act 1 - Part 2 - Confusion - End


	4. Act 1 Part 3 - Fear

**Okay, I lied. I didn't update sooner because I had lotsa stuff to do. Sorry.**

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><p><em>Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, only my OC.<em>

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><p><strong><em>"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."<br>— Frank Herbert, Dune_**

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><p>Act 1 - Part 3 - Fear<p>

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_"Then the blood of the innocent will be on your hands."_

The phrase kept ringing in my head, reminding me of what was about to happen. I could have honestly cared less about the others.

I was selfish.

I kept to myself. I never let anyone in, not even my parents. It's not that I have something to hide, no. I just want to be alone. On my own. I've lived that way my whole life, I don't want things to change.

I hated change.

Because our family fell apart when sister died. She had changed, so suddenly. She said hurtful things, bad things that I couldn't imagine coming out from her mouth. It kept getting worse over the months. Then she had her first psychotic breakdown when she was fourteen. I was already eighteen at the time, and lost my place at the honor roll when things around our family kept getting worse. Mama kept crying from the pressure, Papa was struggling at work. Me? I was taking care of my autistic sister.

It was barely five weeks before I found her dead in the bathroom, foaming at her mouth with Mama's medicine scattered on the floor.

Her last crooked smile as she lay on the cool bathroom tiles haunted my dreams.

My mind returned on track when I stumbled and nearly fell over when I was pushed. The screams seemed to increase in volume as the ground shook and made more people stumble, and some, to fall over. The shaking seemed to intensify and I felt the numbness closing in once more when the little voice appeared. _"They're coming." _it whispered, _"And they are going to die. Because of you."_

"Stop it." I whimpered, my voice disappearing among the crowd. "Please. Stop it."

And the voice stopped, but the memory of what it said remained. They were going to die. Because of me.

I have morals, I do. I wanted to do something. God knows how much I obsess over something when it bothers me and right now, my inactivity is bothering me. I can't do it, I tell myself, I just can't. The memory of the voice's pestering grew tenfold and I squeezed my eyes shut as I covered my head and neck through the stampede.

Then I remembered something I'd read in a book.

In theory, everything is impossible to do, unless you try it and succeed. Although sometimes, people don't even reach until the succeed part so they don't bother to try.

_"Then try. What else can you do?" _came the voice again, echoing through the hazy chaos of my mind.

I told the voice to shut up. I told it I was a coward. I told it that I couldn't do it, that the others shouldn't have been my responsibility. That everything here shouldn't have been happening again in the first place. I should have died back then, as unexpected as it was. I shouldn't be here. I can't do it.

And my obsession grew, as well as the message of what the voice was trying to say. I tried not to think about how my subconscious agreed to the voice, or how my instincts told me to escape when I stood up and ran—towards the source of the fray.

I felt wrong. I felt numb. My mind was screaming to go back, to return and escape with the others—the others who would _die_—but I kept running, this time, back to where I had come from, where I had supposedly died.

My morals felt right though, just when everything else seemed wrong. I was going to save them. Or I had to at least _try_. I suppose whether or not I reach the success part is up to my actions.

Or my luck.

Yeah, that works too.

Fear is only in the mind. It's just some stupid annoying fly buzzing around your head. It only hindered you from the truth. Fear of the dark is nothing more than not knowing what's in the dark. And I won't find out why all of this is happening when I don't face my fear.

I say I'm selfish, but now I'm not so sure. But as I numbly run past the stampede, I realize that no, I'm still selfish. I was only doing this to find out what happened, why I was somehow back in time. But I wasn't just selfish, was I? Maybe I'm both. Selfish and unselfish, maybe? I had wanted to know why this happened, for myself, but I had also wanted to save the others.

So, I'm both I guess. It kind of makes sense. The world's not just black and white anyway.

I know I'm probably only thinking this to remove my mind from the possible traumas I was sure to receive. No one really wants to know and experience that you've died and have the possibility of dying once more.

I only hope I live through it.

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Act 1 - Part 3 - Fear - End

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><p><strong>It feels like a whole jumble of thoughts and intense panic and stuff. And yeah, sorry for the update taking so long. And the chapter isn't even 1k words long.-sheepish smile- Yeah, really sorry about that...<strong>


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